Justice System: I Litigate for the Whole City

Chapter 111 : Seven Days Early

At three in the afternoon on the sixteenth, she was stuffing the receipt book into a drawer when the landline rang. He Xiufen was downstairs carrying noodles, so she answered it herself.

”Zhengping Firm.”

”Itʼs me,” Lawyer Luo said. ”The branch held a meeting this morning.”

She switched the receiver to her left hand and pushed the drawer shut with her right.

”What did they decide.”

”Withdraw.” He said. ”The motion goes in this afternoon.”

The red-gridded paper still lay spread on the long table, the draft of the defense statement pressed against its edge. She glanced over at it but didnʼt move her hand.

”Reason.”

”To touch the third item at second instance, weʼd need something new in hand. The agreement is still the same photocopied pages, the details still those twenty-three transactions—everything that could be flipped has been.” He paused. ”The only thing that can be moved is the original copy of that sheet in the first-instance file. The branchʼs legal affairs asked one question—if the original go up, who stands in court and vouches for whatʼs written in that column.”

”What did you answer.”

”I didnʼt answer. No one is in a position to answer that.”

Footsteps on the stairs. He Xiufen came up with a bowl of noodles, saw her holding the receiver, and set the bowl down at one end of the long table without a word.

”The withdrawal column.” She asked.

”Iʼll sign it.”

”Your name all the way through.”

”The firm gives me whatever name, I sign whatever.” He said it evenly. ”One more thing to tell you. The day the word was passed to the branch, the branch asked—why didnʼt the one who appeared in court last time come. I said the firm had reassigned it. He said ʼoh,ʼ and the meeting broke up.”

Her fingers pressed against the edge of the desk.

”When does the ruling come down.”

”Once itʼs filed, it moves fast. If granted, theyʼll send it to you.” He paused again. ”The first-instance judgment takes effect from the day the ruling is served. Whatever needs doing on your end, do it.”

”You donʼt have to tell me that.”

”I know you know.” He said. ”Just saying. Hanging up.”

She put the receiver back. Steam from the noodle soup drifted across the tabletop, then dispersed.

”Withdrawn,” she said.

”I heard.” He Xiufen set down her chopsticks. ”He didnʼt say why.”

”He did. To touch the third item, theyʼd have to submit that original; once they do, someone has to stand in court and say that column is clean.”

”Thatʼs a ledger, plain and simple.” He Xiufen took the desk calendar from the corner, spread it on the table, and tapped the square for September 25th—the two pencil characters in that square were darker than the others because sheʼd traced them herself. ”An appeal means filing fees. Second instance means a schedule and evidence deadlines. The third item is a fact the court already found; overturning it takes something new. Theyʼve got not one new sheet of paper. The one sheet they can move, the moment itʼs handed over, someone has to own whatʼs written on it. And once thatʼs owned, the line on the sixth floor gets even harder to explain.”

”So theyʼd rather withdraw.”

”If I were the bank, Iʼd withdraw too. Withdrawn appeals get half the filing fee back—theyʼll still pay that half. Paying half to take the words back is cheaper than standing in court and claiming one character.” He Xiufenʼs finger moved off the date. ”Withdrawal of appeal requires court approval. The judgment takes effect on whatever day the approval ruling is served. That date I penciled in—the courtʼs going to have to change it for me.”

”And the second-instance defense statement.”

”Those two copies mailed to the Intermediate Court last week.” He Xiufen said. ”This round wonʼt be heard. The papers get filed away regardless; if they come back, theyʼre still the same few pages.”

Tang Guoʼs head popped up from the stairwell. ”Whatʼs the news?”

”Wait until the ruling arrives.” He Xiufen didnʼt look up. ”Donʼt speak a word of this outside for the next two days.”

Tang Guo glanced at her, put her phone away, and went back downstairs.

[Thud. Nine days remain in the appeal period. The motion came back on its own.]

At ten in the morning on the eighteenth, a postal van stopped in front of the noodle shop. The courier stood under the awning holding up an envelope and calling for the Zhengping Firm. She went down and signed.

Inside was a civil ruling, not thick, the back still showing the form lines from the previous column. The appellant, Jiangzhou Bank Chengdong Branch, was permitted to withdraw its appeal; the first-instance judgment took effect from the day this ruling was served; the second-instance filing fee was halved, to be borne by the appellant.

She spread the paper flat on the long table and read it from top to bottom, twice.

He Xiufen brought the calendar over and laid it by her hand. The penciled characters sheʼd traced in the twenty-fifth square were still there. He Xiufen picked up an eraser, rubbed that square clean, blew the crumbs to the corner of the desk, and traced the same two characters into the eighteenth square with a pencil.

”From the eighteenth, running through the twenty-eighth.” She said. ”Whatʼs due within those ten days, and how much—the schedule has it all.”

”And if they donʼt pay by the deadline.”

”Then on the eleventh day—the morning of the twenty-ninth—we file the enforcement application.” He Xiufen put the pencil down. ”I told you this the day of the first-instance hearing.”

”The message for the group.”

”Three sentences.” He Xiufen held up three fingers. ”The judgment is in effect. Within ten days, who owes what and how much is on the schedule. After ten days with no movement, the court proceeds to enforcement.” She lowered her hand. ”No reading out amounts. No unit numbers. Whoever gets paid, donʼt flaunt it in the group.”

Tang Guo stood at the stairwell, recited the three sentences to herself, switched on her stream, and went downstairs.

At midday, Shi Leiʼs call came in, wind filling the receiver: ”Sis, Iʼm on row eighty-seven. Will it reach me after ten days?”

”Whether it reaches you, I donʼt decide.” She said. ”The court goes by the order on the schedule. Whoeverʼs ahead gets paid first.”

”Then Iʼll remember the number.”

”The numberʼs on the schedule. No need to remember.”

A message came in from Jiang Bo: the eight households in Chengxi were all asking the same thing—in these ten days, would the companies start moving money out of their accounts. She replied: every yuan moved out is a debt the judgment will recover.

Late in the afternoon, Kong Xiulan called, asking in fine detail.

”When the ten days pass and they donʼt pay, what then.”

”We seize.” He Xiufen answered beside her. ”Whoever has money in hand gets seized first.”

”Then what number am I.”

”Row two on the schedule. Count yourself.”

The line went quiet. Kong Xiulan said, ”Iʼll count by myself,” and hung up.

She flipped to the back of the receipt book and added a line beneath that row of characters: Effective the eighteenth.

On the morning of the twenty-eighth, the last day of the ten-day deadline, she called the three phone numbers registered in the filing materials. The first was a dead number. The second rang seven times with no answer. The third, someone picked up, listened to her state the firmʼs name, said ”wrong number,” and hung up.

The time and result of all three calls went onto a memo slip, taped to the case file cover. ”Whatʼs the point of that?” Tang Guo asked from beside her. ”A demand notice is also evidence.” She said. ”The deadline passed with no payment; this sheet goes in with the enforcement application.”

At eight-thirty on the morning of the twenty-ninth, she pulled out the enforcement application that had sat pressed in the drawer for half a month. Two signature lines: He Xiufen first, hers below. At ten to nine, the two of them reached the Civil Division Filing Hall and submitted the application at the window.

The clerk flipped through the materials, stopping at the column for the deduction target: ”This account name—Hongyi?”

”Write it first.” She said. ”The rest, request the court to trace and freeze per law.”

The case was filed that afternoon.

Past four, Zhou Yu called, brief as ever: Hongyiʼs account at another bank in Chengdong was frozen as an involved account; the amount wasnʼt small. But that account had to wait for the criminal side to finish before civil restitution could even be discussed. Donʼt count on it moving within the month.

”The judgment taking effect—I need a copy for procedure on my end.” He said. ”Send it over; Iʼll archive it.”

”Iʼll deliver it tomorrow.”

”Donʼt deliver. Use a courier.” Before hanging up he added, ”No oneʼs gone back up after the sixth floor was sealed. Shi Lei—donʼt let him run up to that building again.”

On the morning of the thirtieth, the court ran its enforcement asset trace. The three companiesʼ accounts still held thirty-one yuan and forty-six cents. But another account turned up: one opened by Jiangzhou Minanli Property at a Chengbei bank, with eighty-three thousand in it—deposited after the judgment.

That afternoon the money was transferred out, into the case fund special account.

He Xiufen studied the inquiry receipt for a long while. ”A shell account. Eighty-three thousand goes in after judgment. Put this one in the separate ledger.”

”Enough for how many households.”

”The first three.” She pushed the receipt back. ”Row two is Kong Xiulan. The court says theyʼll notify her after the holiday to come in for processing—she signs in person.”

”Her last signature was traced by someone else.”

”This one, she does herself.”

[Thud. The first transfer landed in the courtʼs account. The money reached the court, but not yet the households.]

In the afternoon, Tang Guo switched off the stream light and sat at the long table calculating for a while. ”My household is on the last row.”

”Last row means the final batch.”

”Good.” She wound the light cord in neat loops. ”Iʼll watch you all collect one by one.”

Someone in the group divided the eighty-three thousand by the number of rows on the schedule, posted the math, and voice messages piled up one after another. Tang Guo recited the official line three times, and only when she reached ”no movement means enforcement” did her phone gradually quiet down.

[Thud. Rent loan case: judgment in effect, enforcement unfinished. Justice Points settled at fifty percent; the remaining fifty percent pending money in hand.]

On the evening of the thirtieth, Lawyer Luo called again. His first words: ”Two things to tell you. Donʼt ask me anything else.”

”Speak.”

”Everything after this at the branch has been handed to another firm. The firm re-sorted the client list for the Chengdong area.”

She held the receiver and said nothing.

”Iʼm on that list too.” He said. ”Thatʼs all.”

”On the list—”

”Heʼs not on it.” Lawyer Luo finished the sentence and hung up.

She stood by the long table, listening as the roll-up shutter was pulled halfway down downstairs, and as someone stacked the plastic stools and knocked them against the foot of the wall.

He Xiufen came upstairs with an empty bowl, put it in the sink, turned on the tap, and rinsed it twice.

”His nameʼs been removed from the client list.”

”One empty space on a list, in exchange for the judgment taking effect for one thousand and forty-two households.” He Xiufen shut off the water. ”Keep this account for him. Donʼt speak it for him.”

”Iʼll ask him after the holiday.”

”That space has already landed. If youʼre going to ask, ask face to face.” He Xiufen set the bowl upside-down on the rack. ”If he gives you half a sentence, keep the other half for him.”

That night she lifted one corner of the glass desk pad. Underneath, the five sheets were still five sheets. The one on top was the one sheʼd cut herself, ”Notice of Appeal” written on the front, face down for half a month. She pulled it out, cut another blank sheet exactly the same size, and pressed it on top.

He Xiufen came upstairs to collect the bowls and saw the lifted glass and the blank sheet.

”Why put a blank sheet under there.”

”Keeping it.” She said. ”Thereʼs still one sentence I havenʼt asked.”

”Wait until the money finishes its next step, then ask?”

”Not waiting anymore.” She laid the glass back down. ”Iʼve waited one fifteen-day stretch. Thatʼs enough.”

Footsteps faded down the stairs. She flipped the calendar back to September: the eighteenth square read ”effective.” The twenty-fifth was empty, a gray smudge from the eraser where the characters had been.